The Fine
by Gibson18
Summary: Beat goes out to paint the town red but ends up getting caught and slapped with a fine. Rated R for language and a little touch of innappropriateness.
1. Chapter one Rogue is hot when vulnerable

Jet Grind Radio was not a creation of mine. All characters herein are property of Sega Enterprises and shi-yit like that. Now, off with the story.  
  
-Gibson  
  
It was an ordinary spring day. The birds were chirping outside and the sun shined brilliantly over the beautiful and diverse city of Shibuya-Cho. Despite the wonderful skating weather, Beat sat in his small bedroom reading an old X-men magazine he found in the closet. All the GG (Graffiti Gang) had come down with some weird type of disease after Mew had brought in some old Chinese food that sat in her fridge for at least a month.  
  
They almost kicked her out of the gang until she pointed out they stole it from her...  
  
Luckily, (or unfortunately) Beat never liked orange chicken (at least he hoped it was chicken; you could never know for sure with Chinese food) so he didn't partake in that zesty, delectable goodness. As a result, he was as healthy as an ox but he had nothing to do.  
  
He wanted to go skating, but skating alone wasn't such a good idea in this town. They had this weird cop called Onishima that would always try to catch you, but what he would do after he caught you was a mystery. Some say that you would receive life imprisonment and go to a `pound-me-in-the-ass federal prison'. Some would say that you would be executed in an unsavory manner. Anyway, everyone was far too worried or frightened to find out, which is why he or she ran like hell when Onishima would rear that ugly, greasy head. They were so frightened of him that criminals were never caught since they ran for their damned lives.  
  
When you had a friend by your side it was easier to draw away any cops by running in separate directions. When they attack together in one group, it could get pretty ugly. That's why Beat sat on the topside of his bunk bed, reading an old X-men comic.  
  
"Hey, Beat, let me read the comic."  
  
He felt the bed shake as his little brother Thomas kicked at the bottom of his bed. Beat smiled knowingly to himself, he couldn't do any more then that or else Beat would beat the crap out of him. In a fight, his younger brother was like a rag doll. So he only ignored him.  
  
"Come on! I know what you're doing! You're only staring at that one page where Rouge is vulnerable!"  
  
Beat snickers, "Yeah, you're right. I am."  
  
"Well how come?" He asked, a whining sound detected in his voice.  
  
"Because Rouge is DAMN fine when she's vulnerable! Mmm-HMM!" Beat said, with a gigantic smile plastered on his face.  
  
"Dad! Beat said a bad word!" Thomas yelled out.  
  
Beat sighed inwardly. He could kick his brother's butt with ease, he could spit torture him without any trouble, but when he called for reinforcements Beat didn't stand a ghost of a chance. He frowned, as he heard footsteps coming towards his room. His father was there, dressed and ready for work. "Beat," he said, sounding exasperated, "what are you doing this time?"  
  
"I was just looking at Rouge being vulnerable." Beat said innocently.  
  
His father's eyebrows raised, "Really? Rouge being vulnerable?"  
  
Beat nodded  
  
His father quickly shook his head, "No matter, don't swear, it's not excepted in this household."  
  
Beat groaned. He hated that phrase, it made him feel like he lived in a prison.  
  
Thomas waited until the authority was gone and said, "You heard him, give me the comic!"  
  
Beat laughed, "Don't be stupid. He didn't say that." Beat glanced at his watch, and it was around two. He glanced over at his skates and then out the window. The sun bathed the whole word in its warm, inviting rays. He made up his mind. "You know what? Go ahead and take it, retard. I'm going skating."  
  
He tossed it to his younger brother who was happy to get it, but still had a frown on his face as Beat laced up his skates. "I'm not a retard."  
  
"Yes you are." Beat replied, skating out the door and down the hallway.  
  
The house was empty now and Thomas sat on the bottom part of the bunk bed reading an old X-men comic that his brother found in the closet. He smiled as he looked at a picture of Rouge being chained to wall, her clothes worn and torn. "Mmm-HMM! Rouge is DAMN fine when she's vulnerable."  
  
* * *  
  
Beat smiled as he heard the blades roll under his feet. The wind whipped at his short red hair, his baggy yellow shirt, and his loose black pants. This is what spring is all about. He was just fine until he saw a large poster.  
  
He felt his muscles tense and the hair on his neck stand up straight at the sight of Onishima's ugly face on a propaganda poster. He looked like Uncle Sam, with his finger pointed towards Beat, like it was claiming him. He was wearing a police outfit, and a large gun holstered on his side. At the top of the poster it said, "You step out of line, and your ass is mine."  
  
Catchy motto Beat had to admit. Got the idea across.  
  
His index finger twitched as if he were spraying an invisible spray can. Beat growled and slapped that twitching hand. He could feel the need to graffiti spread over him as he looked at Onishima's leering image. He could feel that hand finger a cylinder can in his cargo pocket.  
  
"NO!" He said out aloud, scaring some people passing by, "It's not right!" He started pacing in front of the picture like a tiger pacing around in a cage. He shot glances at the poster and every time he did he saw something else he could do to make fun of it. Suddenly he heard a voice.  
  
"Hey Meaty Beaty, let me out sweetie."  
  
Beat's hand instinctively opened up the cargo pocket on his right side. He held up a barely used spray paint can. He was a little shocked to see the face of a bablicious woman on the nozzle. "What do you want? Why do you tempt me so?" Beat said, a wavering tone detected in his voice.  
  
"Come on, spray me. You know you want to." The woman said seductively.  
  
Beat gasped, and smiled sheepishly. "But baby, people are looking! They're looking at me right now!" That was true, a small crowd of people looked at him with a sick sense of amusement.  
  
The imaginary woman only looked at him with a lustful, longing look. "Oh," she groaned, "but I want you to spray me right now!" She finished the sentence with a heightened sense of urgency that would be hard for ANY man to refuse. "Come on, baby." She said with a sexy wink, "Just a quickie for old times sake." She pursed her lips at him, almost sealing his fate.  
  
"No! It's not right! I can't! I can't! I can't!" He screamed.  
  
"Isn't it better that Tab isn't here? You don't have to share me this time. You could have me all to yourself." She said, slowly, savoring every word.  
  
"Gum's going to be mad at me you know!" Beat said in desperation.  
  
"Oh? I thought you wore the pants in the relationship." Said the voice.  
  
"W-what? I'm a man! I wear the pants dammit! ME!"  
  
"If that was true, you'd be spraying right now." Said the voice.  
  
Beat was silent and smiling evilly now.  
  
"Be a man, Beat. It's what you do best." She said with a sense of finality.  
  
"Oh right, oh right!" He said lecherously. "Get yourself ready baby!" He shook the can violently, hearing the metallic rattle only got him more anxious.  
  
"Oh yeah! Shake me up good Beat!" The can yelled.  
  
Beat put his finger to the nozzle and pressed hard and a burst of paint flew onto the poster. He started to paint a tutu on Onishima's torso. "Oh yeah, you like the colors baby? You like the colors?"  
  
"Oh," the voice gasped, "yes, yes I love the colors."  
  
"You like the dripping technique? The stenciling? The 3-D effect? The contrast? Do you? DO YOU?" Beat yelled.  
  
"OH YES! YES! YES!" The voice yelled.  
  
"Oh yeah, here comes a funny caption baby, are you ready for a funny caption?" Beat smirked.  
  
"I don't know. I don't know, just keep going." The voice said.  
  
Beat was too caught up to realize, but a whole crowd was gathered around him now and they were watching him with perverse fascination. Beat continued shouting lecherously as he finished up the final touches of his masterpiece. When he was done, he and the imaginary voice were gasping. "That was wonderful Beat!"  
  
"Whew, thanks baby, I try."  
  
Suddenly, he heard a distinct noise from behind him. He spun around and he saw the audience splitting like the Red Sea as a familiar face came closer. It was Onishima, but for a man that had been publicly insulted, he looked rather calm. He looked up at Beat's masterpiece. He managed to keep his calm even still, which showed a lot of self restraint.  
  
Where the poster used to be was now a pile of paint that was cleverly used to completely alter the picture. Onishima was no longer wearing a cop outfit, but a bright, pink tutu. The gun at his side was now a large box of condoms. There were two new additions, which were two desperate looking jailbirds eyeing Onishima on each side. The caption that once struck fear in Beat was now replaced with the caption, "Got bitch?"  
  
Onishima's eyes went back to Beat, who was smiling sheepishly and turning (pardon the expression) beet-red. It was evident that Beat was trying to say something, but the only thing he could croak out was, "I-I-I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Onishima nodded. Beat looked at the picture he made, at Onishima, then at the can, then at the picture again, and he smiled brightly as if he had an excuse.  
  
"W-wait! It wasn't me! It was this can!" He started pointing to the can frantically. It tempted me! It made me do it, tell them baby!" He held out the can as if he expected the cops to see the same hot-looking woman he saw, but they only saw a paint covered nozzle. When Beat realized they didn't believe him he groaned in disgust and threw the can as hard as he could, "You damn little trick!" He yelled. With that he skated off in a blur.  
  
He didn't get far though.  
  
Every exit was sealed off by a police car and the police were surrounding him already. Images filled his head and they weren't pretty ones. Onishima would bust his head in if he got caught, and he liked his head the way it was so he continued to evade the police at every cost.  
  
It was amazing, Beat managed to evade them for a whole hour until Onishima tackled him. By then Onishima was out of breath and laying on top of him. He managed to gasp out, "Why the (gasp) hell do you (gasp) run?"  
  
"Because (gasp) I don't wanna (gasp) die." Replied Beat.  
  
"Why the (gasp) hell do you think (gasp) you're gonna die?"  
  
"Because (gasp) I was spray painting on public (gasp) property."  
  
Onishima burst out laughing, but since he was out of breath, it was more like a wheeze. "For spray painting? (gasp) You thought I'd kill your ass for (gasp) spray painting?"  
  
"Well, (gasp) it was your posters that gave us that idea." Beat said indignantly. (But not that indignantly since he was so damned tired).  
  
"No (gasp) shit?" Onishima said in honest surprise.  
  
"Yeah. (gasp) No shit." Replied Beat.  
  
"Would it help if I change the (gasp) posters to say, `We'll catch you someday or another, so turn yourself in to get a sucker?' (gasp)"  
  
"Are you saying that if anyone turn themselves in, (gasp) they get a sucker?" Beat asked.  
  
"Yeah. (gasp) Would it work?"  
  
Might. (gasp)"  
  
"Word. (gasp) I'll give it a go."  
  
"Onishima?" Beat asked.  
  
"What (gasp) is it, kid?"  
  
"Can I have one? (gasp)"  
  
"Yeah. (gasp) Sure."  
  
With that the two passed out.  
  
Author's Note: You know, I was a little scared to put this out. It is pretty damn weird. Give me some feedback, alright? 


	2. Chapter two Two cops, a juvenile, and a ...

Beat was now sitting rather uncomfortably in the hallway of the Tokyo Police Station. It was completely different from what he imagined. There were no instruments of torture, no hookers, no drugs laying anywhere from former busts, and they were no battered criminals. In fact, Beat was the only criminal there, and that embarrassed the hell out of him.  
  
Damn, he was so hungry and so bored. He had been sitting there for hours and he didn't know why. As it was mentioned before, there were no criminals, so what was the freaking hold-up? It suddenly dawned on him that these poor bastards never caught a criminal, let alone punish one before. They were probably confused on what to do next.  
  
Beat was right, for down the hallway and in the room on the second right, Onishima and a fellow officer were trying to find out what the hell they were supposed to be doing. Onishima was rummaging through a few old file cabinets looking for the answer desperately, "I know there has to be an agenda SOMEWHERE." He sighed in contempt as he pulled out sheet after sheet of useless information.  
  
Suddenly, the younger officer beamed as he held up a bag of evidence, "Hey remember this?"  
  
Onishima smiled, "Oh yeah! That was from the old Isaka case. That was one of the last successful cases we had! I remember he was always shouting, 'The evidence is somewhere! Please, you have to find it!'" Onishima chuckled fondly as he gestured for the officer to toss him the evidence. The officer obeyed and threw it at him gently. Onishima held it in the sunlight that went past the blinds that covered a beautiful view of Shibuya- Cho. "Well spank my ass and call me Charlie. The guy was innocent!"  
  
"Uh, he had lethal injection four years ago, boss." The young officer said dejectedly.  
  
"Uh, well, I guess I must've misplaced the evidence." Onishima chuckled nervously. He looked at the officer who looked horrified, "Not on purpose! Not on purpose!" Onishima slapped his forehead for adding that phrase and quickly tossed the evidence back into the file cabinet. He reached inside and grabbed something random to change the topic.  
  
Onishima felt something like wrapping paper and pulled it out. It was a large bag of weed that was almost empty, "Oh yeah!" Onishima said with a sense of relief evident in his voice, "Remember that illegal drug case? We busted somebody for selling large quantities of weed?"  
  
"Um, yeah. I also remember that bag being full too." The officer said, his voice full of suspicion.  
  
"Uh, well, I-" Officer Onishima quickly threw the evidence into the file cabinet behind him. "Hey! How about this!" Onishima said, grabbing something random. "Remember this?" He looked it over. "Remember when I pulled over those kids for speeding?"  
  
"Uh, wasn't that the Toriyata case?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. Why?" Onishima asked.  
  
The younger officer looked at him with disdain, "It was a police brutality case that you were charged with. They said that an officer pulled them over and beat the living hell out of them. You said you weren't even there. The court believed you."  
  
"Oh shit!" Onishima threw it back into the cabinet and locked it up like it was the plague. In a panic, Onishima went from the cabinet to the drawer of his desk, "Ah, heh, heh, how about this old snapshot?" He pulled out an erotic picture from his desk, "Remember when you, me, my wife, and your wife went to a romantic getaway to the mountains?"  
  
"I never went to the mountains." The officer said, surprised.  
  
"Oh shit!" Onishima quickly realized the younger officer wasn't there for that getaway and he quickly shoved the erotic picture back into his desk. He looked back up at the officer who looked like he was infuriated. "Uh, maybe we should ask the mayor if he has a copy instead of digging around in my cabinets."  
  
* * *  
  
Beat sat on the bench in the hallway, kicking his legs out from under him. Finally, he heard a fax machine start up and he heard footsteps coming from Onishima's office. The two officers walked over to the fax machine. Onishima snatched the paper from the fax and looked over it carefully. He smiled and walked over to Beat, "Well, we finally figured out what we have to do now. We need to get your ass to a judge. Where do we find one though?"  
  
Beat groaned in annoyance as Onishima went to look for his address book.  
  
* * *  
  
Three hours later, Beat, Onishima, and the younger officer were standing in front of the Supreme Court; they were in awe of all its beauty. Breaking the silence, Onishima laughed out loud, "Who would've thought that a judge would be in a court? What a crazy world we live in, eh Beat?" Onishima dug his elbow in his side in a playful manner.  
  
Beat looked up at him with a expression of disbelief, "Are you sure you're a cop?"  
  
Not hearing a word of what Beat said, Onishima led the handcuffed juvenile up the marble steps of the Supreme Court. They pushed open the wide, wooden doors and steps inside. It was everything a government building was supposed to be; clean, historic, orderly, righteously massive and kick-ass.  
  
Once the three were done admiring the structure, they went up to the counter to schedule a trial. The trio made the mistake of letting Onishima handle the situation. "Hello! We got ourselves a criminal and he needs to be put on trial."  
  
The secretary looked at them over her spectacles that hung at the end of her long nose. Her long bony fingers reached for a packet and a pencil. She turned to Onishima and asked him what the name was in a slow croaky voice. Onishima simply replied, "Beat."  
  
"That's his name?" The secretary asked.  
  
"Yep!" Onishima said, a bright smile on his face.  
  
"Doesn't he have a last name? A social security number? An address?"  
  
"H-holy hell? Social security what?" Onishima said nervously, his smile disappearing.  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Said the woman. "Didn't you debrief him?"  
  
Onishima looked stunned and his fingers started to tremble, this lady was horrifying him. "B-but, I don't swing that way! I-I don't even know the kid!" Beat groaned and buried his face in his hands. "She means, didn't you do an interrogation on me," He said, irritably. "not butt-rape me."  
  
"Oh!" Onishima said with relief, wiping sweat off his face with his right hand. "No. I suppose I didn't. Is that a problem?" He shrunk back as the old lady glared at him. She waved a bony finger at him, "Shame on you for calling yourself an officer! You are supposed to call his parents (or parent or guardian or guardians) do an ID check, then take him to court! What did he even do?" She said, sounding exasperated.  
  
"He defaced public property." The younger officer added, trying to help the situation.  
  
"You mean he just did graffiti?" The woman said, shocked.  
  
"Yes." The officer said.  
  
"And you brought him to the SUPREME Court? What the hell are you thinking!" She screeched.  
  
"What was I supposed to do?" Whimpered Onishima.  
  
The woman suddenly grew very patient and wrote down some directions on a memo pad. She tore it off and crumpled it into a little ball and tossed it to Onishima (who was very nervous at the time) and he dropped it. He blushed in embarrassment as he stooped to pick it up; he unraveled the paper and read it. "What is this? Directions? Where to?" Onishima asked. The woman leaned over and said, "Your 'criminal' is under eighteen and he hasn't committed a felony. Therefore, he goes to a Juvenile court. That's how to get there."  
  
Onishima went wide-eyed. "JUVENILE Court? How many different courts are there?"  
  
The woman sighed, "Just get your ass out of here. –You bother me."  
  
* * *  
  
The police car finally pulled out to a small area that was near a public park. The three stepped outside of the vehicle and looked at the small outlet that was known as the "Tokyo Juvenile Delinquent Center". They had finally arrived.  
  
They stepped inside and quickly realized that it wasn't nearly as grandeur as the Supreme Court was. Nevertheless, it was still a decent courthouse, but it looked more like a small-time business office. There was a heavy stench of coffee in the air that made Beat a little sick to his stomach, but not so much to Onishima. (Since his teeth were stained pure yellow due to his cigarettes and coffee binges he was well use to the stench). It was also way too cold in that room and Beat shivered while the other officers were snug in their uniforms and trench coats.  
  
They walked up to the secretary who merely sat there, filing her fingers. She sighed in boredom as Onishima and company walked to the front desk. Onishima cleared his throat to get her attention. She still sat there filing. Onishima did the same a little louder. She still sat there filing. Onishima sighed and reached into his holster, pulled out his pistol and fired into the ceiling directly above the secretary. The poor woman nearly jumped out of her skin, and also out of her chair. The dust and asbestos from the ceiling rained down into her eyes as she lay on the floor recovering from the shock. She quickly scrambled back up to the desk and looked at Onishima with the utmost hatred.  
  
"Were here to schedule an appointment. Any times available?"  
  
  
  
Author's note: As you probably know by now, I have no idea how the system really works, and what a police station really looks like. All I know about the police is everything I've seen on "Police Academy" and I guess that's enough for me. And I also have trouble keeping characters in their characters, but oh well. I really don't give a damn. This is a pretty stupid story in the first place. Peace out. -Gibson 


	3. Chapter three A crappy ending involving ...

-Well, I'm back. Figured I might as well end the story…

You figure that woman wouldn't be such a bitch. All they wanted was an appointment with the judge, but I guess that when people have asbestos in their eyes, blinding them for life, you just can't help but get a little moody at times. The woman shot straight up to the surprise of Beat, who thought that she would be wriggling on the ground, the asbestos burning holes in her pupils. They probably were, but at that moment, before she died, she wanted to take at least one person with her. Her eyes, straining to see what she last remembered (a brown trench-coat clad person with greasy hair) had made out a blur of three people. Only one of them had any brown on them.

"Ya!"

With the speed of a vicious jaguar, the woman flew out from behind her desk, high-heels flying off into the air. They landed in an awkward lump on the floor as she wrestled Onishima who had a perverse look on his face. Beat and the officer quickly went to opposite sides of the room as a volley of kicks, punches, and screams were exchanged. During the fight, and much to the confusion of Beat, the woman, and the officer, Onishima said with a cautious voice, "Are you sure we should do this with people watching us?"

The fight continued until a few officers of another precinct came in with a criminal of their own. They were shocked to see such a spectacle in a place reserved for law and order; order being the key word. They pulled the woman off of him, who screamed that she hated him over and over. Meanwhile, Onishima was lying with his back on the floor, smoking a cigar with a smile plastered on his face. He sighed contently as he said, "I still got it…" And at that moment, the two realized the meaning of his question. Beat slapped his own head, letting his hand slide down his face as he said, "She wasn't giving you rough sex…she was beating the shit out of you!"

It seemed that Onishima hadn't heard him. The police officers returned and helped him off the floor. They brushed off his back that was covered in asbestos from the ceiling before. "We are sorry about that incident sir; she seems so mild-mannered." Onishima only shook his hand as he used the other to hold his cigar as he took a deep drag. "Hey, don't worry about it…She was a good kid…She just couldn't resist my magic." The other guards looked at each other, trying to find the meaning in his words and wondering if he had anything other than tobacco in that cigar.

The guards shook their heads in order to interrupt their current thoughts as they looked at Beat. "Who is this?" said one of the guards. Onishima puffed his chest out as he exclaimed, "Yes, he is a vicious criminal who was apprehended after hours and hours of vicious street-warfare." It seemed that Onishima remembered the shame he had felt when he went to the Supreme Court, so why not sugar-coat the story a little? The officers raised their eyebrows in surprise when they looked at the fit, yet scrawny frame of his suspect. "Vicious street-warfare?" one of the two half-asked, half-replied. Onishima nodded vigorously, "Oh yes! It was a struggle! This little varmint was wrecking havoc on my peaceful part of the city! I was flanked with my patrol cars on the right and left, but it came down to this ruffian" he said this and he jutted his finger to a scoffing Beat, "and me! It was a life or death battle as we chased him up and down the street."

"What did he do?" one of the guards asked.

"Pardon?" asked Onishima, seemingly caught off guard by such an expected question.

"I said, 'what did he do'?" asked the guard.

Onishima stammered as he tried to think of the most amazing way to describe something as simple as a graffiti charge, but he could find none. He began without thinking, "He was engaged in the dark works of Buddhism!" The guards frowned, seeing that they were Buddhists themselves. "What is wrong with Buddhism?" They asked, righteously indignantly. Despite the facts that Buddhists were taught to take no violent action or offenses, the human nature simply can't help but be offended when beliefs are challenged. Onishima, in a bid to keep his cool and his honor raised his voice as he said, "What is wrong with it? What is wrong with it! Look at the kind of people it creates!" He grabbed Beat's arm while Beat himself shook his head vigorously, trying his best to say without words that he wasn't with this man. "This was once an innocent boy, but his friends had won him over and thus began his dark, fervent beginnings of Buddhism!"

This had been enough. The two guards had leapt on Onishima much like the woman had done earlier and a bout of punches and Onishima's screams could be seen and heard. Meanwhile, the officer and Beat only looked at each other while Onishima suffered all kinds of punishment. Suddenly a light went off in Beat's head and he tried to quell the guards' fury, "Wait! Wait! He didn't mean Buddhism! He meant VANDLEISM!" The sound of the struggle was so loud that they could not be heard. Even the officer was trying his hardest to pull the guards off of Onishima.

It was at that point that Beat was absolutely feed up with the events of the day. He wished that he could simply leave, but them he realized that the keys to his handcuffs had fallen out of Onishima's pockets. Working quickly, he began to uncuff his self and he skated off towards the door. Onishima noticed and yelled out to the guards, "Stop! He's getting away!"

"Run, my brother!" An officer shouted to Beat.

"Officer!" Onishima shouted, "Stop that Buddhist!" Another fist landed on his face.

"Vandalism! He meant vandalism!" The younger officer shouted in Onishima's defense.

It was a long skate back, but he finally got back to the garage where all the GGs were gathered together. It seemed that they had all recovered and were skating about the premises, happy to be alive. (I say that because whenever any of them used the bathroom it smelled like something had died). They had engaged in friendly conversation and a meeting, most of it concerning the increase in the capture of criminals in the city; something about turning yourself in for a lollipop. As they continued to converse throughout the day, Gum came in with a bright smile on her face, holding aloft dented container of Chinese food. "Look!" She shouted, happy that everyone had turned their heads, "I found this under one of the couches and it is all mine!"

"Oh no it ain't, bitch!" Combo began to skate after her as quickly as his bulky body would allow. Gum shrieked in reply as the rest of the gang began to skate after her furiously. In a moment, they were all downing large clumps of what they thought was mandarin chicken. When the box reached Beat, he choked down the rest of the contents without thinking twice.

--Author's note: I know…It's not really a good ending, but I'll tell you what…If I ever make any better endings, than I'll post and replace it. I had a hard time writing humorous stories because I've been writing so many dramatic things lately that it just seeped its way out of my system. I just need to watch some more comedy movies and then I'll be set. I just wanted this to finally have an ending, albeit, a bad, pointless one. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a watered-down version of what I could've written in the past if only I was more vigilant in my writing. -Gibson


End file.
